


Goodbye To A World

by trustxlovexhope



Category: Fall Out Boy, Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore, The Used
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Drugs, Drunk Lovers, End of the World, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut, Weed, Winter, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:21:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21905893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustxlovexhope/pseuds/trustxlovexhope
Summary: It's the end of the world. Patrick is depressed and terrified. Pete is trying to pretend it's okay.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Mentioned Pete Wentz/Mikey Way, Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26
Collections: Have Yourself Some Merry Little Peterick 2019





	Goodbye To A World

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my Merry Little Peterick submission. It's far from perfect, but it's definitely something.

It’s kind of ironic that the day the world is supposed to end coincides exactly with the day that Jesus Christ was born. Patrick doesn’t know much about Christianity, he wasn’t born into a religious family and he never tried to learn about it himself, but he does knows that it’s supposed to be an extremely pure day. It’s just sort of funny that the meteor is supposed to collide with Earth the exact day that God’s son was born. This great, happy holiday that meant peace and joe and love was suddenly the beginning of the apocalypse. The weeks leading up to that Christmas began with most people believing it was going to be okay because God was going to save them. This was the end of the world and God was there to bring those who had put their faith in him up to Heaven. But when the meteorite began to come into sight, a speck in the sky, that belief wavered. The advent calendar quickly became a countdown-to-death calendar and everyone began a mass panic. 

  


Patrick was never okay with it in the first place, especially not when he could see it without having to squint. From the start, it was fear and the inability to completely comprehend the end of the world. It was hatred toward himself for not getting over it faster and for not being able to control it. It was the fear and the anger and the depression that his life was going to be over and it was all for nothing. He won’t be able to grow up past 19 or be able to get a degree or a stupid office job or live his life or /anything/.

  


It’s that depression that follows him through the entirety of December, that weight on him alongside the countdown to death that rests on his bedside table. It’s an advent calendar, one of those cheesy ones you fill with candy and for every day that passes you take out the candy. Patrick filled it with his old Halloween candy (mostly KitKats, M&M’s, and Snickers). He goes through them throughout the month as the meteorite gets closer, and contemplates committing suicide before the meteor can get him. Pete told him that he wouldn’t go to Heaven, though. Patrick’s kind of okay with that, he’s never believed in Heaven and he doesn’t plan to. 

  


Through the last month, Patrick decided that school was going to be a waste of time and while his parents were upset about it, they couldn’t do much to help him out or rethink it, so they simply let him be instead. He wonders if maybe that’s because they’re too busy worrying for their own humanity. Most of the people in Chicago are leaving, either going crazy or buying their way into shelters to try to survive. The scientists said that because the asteroid is so big, there is no chance of anyone surviving. If anyone did, it would be extremely hard for humanity to be able to survive on the new conditions of Earth. It will most likely wipe out humanity and all life with it. That’s what Patrick heard, at least, although of course there’s going to be lots of different information. Biased and fake. 

  


In the final week that leads up until Christmas, Patrick spends his time moping around in bed, texting Pete every once in a while. Pete’s taking it better than expected, he’s always had suicidal tendencies and almost everyone is somewhat surprised he hasn’t just given up. Of course, they’d stop him, but there would have to be an attempt by now. Something. Pete’s been promising that he wants to enjoy the rest of the time he’s got, though. Patrick doesn’t argue with that.

  


That’s what they’re talking about on December 24th, Christmas Eve. The world ends in 24 hours. The streets are finally getting filled with people denying the end of the world. Riots, theft, and hatred. He had been expecting society to start to decay, but not in the last 24 hours. Personally, Patrick would have guessed it to be at least a week in advance, but society has always been an unpredictable mess. 

  


Patrick : So what are your plans for the last 24?

  


Pete is typing…

  


Pete : Gerard’s throwing a house party I think, it’s supposed to be fucking wild. People getting high and drunk and everything

  


Pete : Seems like a great way to go right?

  


Patrick : I guess

  


Patrick doesn’t like parties, but he likes Pete, so he doesn’t protest. Pete’s been his best friend for years, if he’s dying with anyone, it’s going to be Pete. 

  


Pete : What are you doing?

  


Patrick : I was planning on just laying in bed so I don’t have to see it happen. 

  


Pete : Um no. You’re gonna go to this party with me.

  


Patrick guessed those would be his next words.

  


Pete : Let’s go to the party together, get fucked up. It’ll be great.

  


Patrick : When is it?

  


Pete : In a couple of hours, I can come to pick you up. It’s supposed to last all night and go into tomorrow morning. We can leave after if u want

  


Patrick : Sure

  


Patrick swallows back a sigh of excitement. Though he’s never loved parties, he likes Pete a lot. He’s been his best friend since they were kids and they’ve spent most of their time together. This whole end of the world thing has brought them further together, though. Patrick’s been anxious about it and has wanted to check up on Pete more, to make sure his mental health is going okay. Focusing on someone beside himself. 

  


Pete : Sounds great! Miss you, I’ll see you @ 8

  


Patrick : Yeah :)

  


Patrick puts down his phone and pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s six in the evening now, he wonders if maybe this was a bad idea. Parties suck, what if he just ends up getting alcohol poisoning and dies before the meteor can? He doubts it would happen but anything could happen in a situation like this. 

  


He gets one more message from Pete, an attachment to a flier:

  


The Christmas Party at the End of the World

Hosted by Gerard and Frank

Ask for address

6pm-9am

BYOB/W/D

+1’s are allowed, ask for more

Ask for ban list

Patrick chuckles slightly at the thought of a college-level party needing a flier to advertise like Gerard couldn’t just send the whole invitation through Snapchat and invite everyone like that. But Patrick kind of likes the name of that. The Christmas Party at the End of the World. TCPATEOTW. It’s long, but it works. 

  


He realizes, then, that he’s being forced to leave bed, something he really didn’t want to do in the first place, but something stirs in his chest and a burst of energy (or anxiety?) rushes through his body. He finds the energy to rise. Patrick grabs a clean set of clothes from his closet and heads to the bathroom where he takes a shower and cleans what must be two weeks of grime from his body. He washes and then gets dressed and by the time he’s done eating grabbing alcohol from his parents' cabinet (that he should not be grabbing alcohol from) it’s 7:45 and he waits outside for Pete. His parents are out right now, Patrick doesn’t know where or why. He doesn’t care. They’re been gone a lot lately, he wouldn’t be surprised if they’re participating in the riots or something. 

  


The air is cold as Pete’s car pulls up. It only takes five minutes for him to get there between the time Patrick sits outside and the car to come to a stop (he always gets to things early). As soon as Patrick’s in the car, Pete turns to him with a wide grin and says, “Are you excited? This is gonna be such a great party. I can’t wait to see everyone. I’m gonna get fucked up. You are, too.”

  


Patrick realizes right away he must be manic and that explains everything from the past week, how against suicide he’s been and how he goes hours without replying to Patrick. He’s too busy getting drunk or impulsively taking long road trips to places that don’t matter. It’s not great, but it’s fitting for the occasion. Impulsivity, carelessness, embracing your own death with too much adrenaline to be sad about it. 

  


“Yeah, I haven’t seen Gerard for a good year or two,” Patrick says, pulling his pack of cigarettes from his pocket, “Do you want one?”

  


“Fuck yeah,” Pete grins, taking one and placing it in his mouth before mumbling through the stick, “Light me.”

  


Patrick presses his lighter to his lips, then Pete’s and they both take a long inhale at the same time before exhaling. Pete chuckles a little, “I’m been manic as shit, have you noticed?”

  


“Yeah,” Patrick says, watching as they pass by a fight on the side of the street, “It’s pretty obvious, Pete.” 

  


Pete grins, “My bad, is it a bad thing? Like is it /super/ obvious or just kinda?”

  


“It’s /super/ obvious, but everyone’s gonna be too hyped up on coke to care,” Patrick replies. It’s true, most of these parties end with big life-changing decisions that end someone up in rehab, “Are you doing okay? Otherwise?”

  


“I feel great,” Pete says, “Really great. Have you noticed the meteor looks like another moon at this point?”

  


Patrick gazes out the window and sure enough, the meteor sits there, menacingly. It’s moving as quickly as the Sun, barely at all, and also faster than is comprehensible. Patrick thinks it’s interesting, he’d be more interested if it didn’t turn his blood cold. The car comes to a stop as soon as they reach Gerard’s house. Two floors, a big garage, and loud Christmas music playing. 

  


“Are his parents home?” Patrick asks as Pete’s door opens. 

  


“They left for a second honeymoon or something like that. They invited Gerard and Mikey but they both said no, so he’s throwing a party instead.” Pete says, “It’s kinda sad they’d just leave but I think they both somewhat understood that they needed to cope in their own ways.”

  


Patrick nods, he sorta wishes his parents were like that. At the moment, they’re just ignoring him, keeping to themselves more than anything. Every once in awhile they’ll check in on him and ask that he clean his room and he’ll say okay even though he won’t get to it. The only reason he managed to get out today is that he didn’t let them know he was leaving. He doubts he’s coming back, though. He /decides/ he’s not coming back. 

  


Pete helps him grab his alcohol after snubbing his cigarette butt on the ground. He knocks at Gerard’s door, Patrick right behind them. It takes a moment, but Mikey answers, “What’s up, guys?”

  


“Nothing much, how about you?” Pete exclaims. Mikey and Pete dated last year but they ended on good terms so they’re just great friends now more than anything. Sometimes they’ll have the occasional fuck (which Patrick has to hear all about) but for the most part, they’re simply friends. 

  


“Getting ready for the end of all times!” Mikey shouts, obviously fucked up on something, “Whoop, whoop!”

  


Pete chuckles, and looks back at Patrick, “What song is this?”

  


Patrick barely noticed the music, but he also doesn’t really care to hear the rest of the conversation between the two of them and instead wanders into the garage, dropping off the alcohol beside the couch. He sees Hayley and Taylor on the couch, making out and Bert snorting a line. Laura Jane is sitting and talking with him about what the afterlife might be like. Patrick forgot how much he hates parties, but when Pete comes up behind him, he keeps himself in check. He’s going to have a good time, and if he doesn’t, he’ll force himself to.

  


“Where’s Gerard?” Patrick asks, already opening a half-empty bottle of rum. He needs to calm the fuck down.

  


“Fucking Frank,” Pete says, somewhat loudly to drown out the music playing over the speakers. Holly Jolly Christmas, “We should get you someone to fuck, you need to lose your virginity.”

  


“I don’t need to fuck anyone,” Patrick replies, gulping down what must be a good two shots, “I’m not into that.”

  


“You could be, who knows?” Pete says.

  


“I’m not, though. Please stop.”

  


Pete backs off then, looking away with a skeptical smile, “alright. Then at least get high with me?”

  


“I’ll get drunk, not high. I’ll supervise you,” Patrick jokes, although it isn’t a joke and the fact that Pete now wants to get high is suddenly making him anxious. Pete’s too manic for that, and also he wants someone to talk to who isn’t Gerard or Frank. He knows Pete will get too fucked to hold a meaningful conversation. 

  


“Cool,” Pete grins, he leaves for a minute, talking to Bert before returning with a small bag of what Patrick knows is weed and rolls. He takes a seat and Patrick watches as he rolls two blunts, one he assumes is for himself even though he already said no.

  


“Drink up, we’re gonna get fucked up,” Pete grins. Patrick rolls his eyes and scoots away slightly, staring out the window at the snow on the ground as he takes another sip. 

  


***

  


Pete has gone through two blunts by the time he can barely roll another and Patrick cuts him off for at least an hour. He’s six shots in (probably more) and he’s starting to feel the effects kick in. He’s not getting wasted, but he is going to get drunk. He doesn’t want to feel right now, he also doesn’t want to deal with Pete, both problems solved with alcohol. 

  


Pete is leaning into Patrick’s shoulder, mumbling about space and airplanes. It’s 9 now, Pete is stoned off his ass, eyes red and speech soft. Patrick notices Brendon stealing the last of his second blunt when Pete leans up and kisses Patrick’s cheek. They immediately go red, lighting a wildfire under the skin.

  


“Hi, Pete,” Patrick says.

  


“Hey,” Pete replies with a smile, “I love you.”

  


“Mhmm,” Patrick looks away, “You should get some sleep.”

  


Pete shakes his head and this time kisses Patrick’s neck. There is vigor in his actions despite his being too stoned to do too much, “No, we should go to the bathroom.”

  


Patrick pushes him away and looks to Bert who stares back, “What did you give him?”

  


“I think he had some ex,” Bert said, “Just get him to lie down for a bit, should wear off in an hour or two.”

  


Patrick sighs and pushes Pete down on the couch even though he seems adamant about doing something with Patrick, “Please just go to sleep or something, Pete.”

  


Pete groans, and sits back up, this time kissing at Patrick’s neck. Patrick immediately shoves him back down and stands up before turning to Bert. “Watch him, I’ll be back.”

  


Patrick shoves past the crowd of people he barely knows and makes his way into the bathroom which is, luckily, empty. He feels claustrophobic, and frustrated, and when he shoves down his jeans to try to piss, he realizes he’s half hard and he gets even more frustrated. He isn’t sober enough to deal with this. He also knows the only way for it to go down is if he fuckint deals with it. Deep down, a thought crosses his mind that it was caused by Pete. The alcohol definitely brought that to the front of his mind faster than he’d like to admit. He swallows back his pride, stumbles so his back is against the wall, and with a hesitant hand, begins stroking himself. He doesn’t need to piss that bad, more than anything it was an excuse to leave the room. Patrick needs to relax. 

  


He takes a breath as he weighs himself in his hand, shutting his eyes. He begins stroking, squeezing down so it’s tight and lets himself enjoy it and just. /Fuck./ He’s got one hand on his mouth, his back against the wall and his eyes shut tight. He can barely concentrate on anything besides getting off. Up down, inhale. Suddenly, the primary fantasy in his head is Pete, and he tries to push that away, as far away as he can, but the alcohol has overridden his shame. Pete’s hands, Pete’s lips, the tattoos, caramel eyes. He feels something warm on his cock and immediately opens his eyes to see Pete there. He jumps, gasps, and immediately freezes up. 

  


“Pete, I-” He starts, but Pete just locks the door, meets his lips, and falls to his knees. Patrick is even more startled, “You’re on ecstasy, Pete, you can’t do this, you’re intoxicated.”

  


“I didn’t take it,” Pete says, “You’re intoxicated, too. Just fuck my throat.”

  


Patrick doesn’t want to admit how much that sentence prods into his current fantasy. His cock says what he doesn’t when it twitches and precum immediately begins dripping. Pete catches it with his tongue and then moves Patrick’s hand away before wrapping his lips against his length. Patrick is too shocked to really help out, but he finds as Pete takes him down, he can’t help but relax at least a little.

  


Pete looks up at him through dark eyelashes, and Patrick involuntarily moans, covering his mouth a moment later. This is overwhelmingly hot, too much for him, but just enough. He’s drunk enough that this is somehow okay--he knows full well if he was sober this wouldn’t be happening--and Pete’s high enough that it must be alright for him, too. Patrick isn’t going to complain.

  


Pete holds his base and forces himself all the way down on his cock until his nose touches skin, and he stays and sucks him like that before pulling off with a large breath, “You should fuck me.”

  


“I-I,” Patrick’s eyes widen, “I don’t- I’m-”

  


Pete stands and kisses him. Patrick tenses, but when Pete presses a hand to his jaw, he finds himself relaxing.

  


“If you really don’t want to do this,” Pete says, wiping his mouth, “You don’t have to. Do you want to?”

  


“I…” Patrick’s eyes are wide and he’s trying not to panic. He says what he wants before he can consider the consequences, “Y-Yeah.”

  


Pete smiles softly, “I’ll be right back, I have to grab stuff. Relax, yeah?”

  


Patrick nods, and he slowly begins to just let this happen. He’s anxious more than he doesn’t want to do this. This is his biggest fantasy, and there’s something inside him that won’t let it pass him. He wants to, more than anything right now. He’s sure his cock will explode if he doesn’t. He just doesn’t want this to fuck up their relationship.

  


Although, the world is ending at 10pm tomorrow, and Patrick knows that it won’t matter. He’s going to die, and so is Pete. He wonders if maybe it’s better to die as lovers than as friends.

  


Pete returns a minute later, shutting and locking the door after himself, “Hey.”

  


‘Hi,” Patrick replies with a soft smile, “Who’s fucking who?”

  


“I was expecting to have sex, and there’s no way I’m fucking a guy that didn’t have time to at least wash off or something,” Pete replies, “I’ll bottom.”

  


Patrick watches as he tugs off his shirt and then kisses him, biting his bottom lip slightly, “How does that sound?”

  


“Great,” Patrick replies, still somewhat dazed, “Condoms?”

  


Pete drops one in his hand and tugs down his pants before leaning over the toilet. Patrick rolls the condom down his cock, and then coats himself in lube, “Do you need me to stretch you or something?”

  


“No, just fuck me,” Pete replies, “I’m ready.”

  


Patrick nods and rubs lube over himself. Something feels off, he doesn’t know what it is so he pushes it aside, but it’s still lingering as he presses himself against Pete, holding to the counter for balance as he makes his way in. Pete lets out a soft moan, inhaling sharply as Patrick presses his forehead to his neck and bottoms out.

  


“Okay?” Patrick asks. He’s never had sex like this before, but he’s tried to finger himself in the past. He knows something about it. The feeling is getting worse. 

  


“Yeah, it’s perfect,” Pete replies, “Fuck me?”

  


That’s definitely something Patrick didn’t expect to hear out of Pete’s mouth. Not today, not tomorrow. Not for the rest of his life but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hot. 

  


Patrick pulls out, a little unsteady at first, but when he presses back in and Pete lets out a solid moan, he feels better about it. He works his way up to outright fucking Pete, he gets there within a minute, and when he gets there, he’s got a hand on Pete’s lips, using the counter as leverage, and fucking Pete /hard./ He’s panting, just staring, but Pete is very obviously having a better time, back arched, groaning and letting out small sobs here and there and mumbling incoherent nonsense. 

  


It feels great, yeah, but something feels /wrong/ about it. Patrick can’t place it but this is worse and he finally realizes through the fog of the alcohol that this is fucking, this is just for pleasure, and Patrick grits his teeth as he forces himself to stop. It’s the last thing he wants to do, but something about it just feels so bad and as he pulls out and sees the scene before him, he almost wants to cry. This is supposed to be the loss of his virginity and it isn’t right. He covers his mouth. 

  


“What’s wrong?” Pete asks, turning, but as soon as he sees tears rising to Patrick’s eyes, he realizes that Patrick is drunk, and this is too much. “Shit, Patrick.”

  


He tugs up his jeans and buttons them before pulling Patrick close, “Are you okay? Talk to me.”

  


“I didn’t want it to be like this,” He whispers, shuddering, “I wanted it to be sweeter, I wanted.” He swallows, “I wanted it to be like making love. And that’s really fucking cheesy but I don’t. I don’t want to ruin our friendship and- and-” Why did he have to break down /now?/

  


“Patrick,” Pete smiles softly, “I love you. I didn’t… if you didn’t want to outright just fuck me, you could have said so. I’m sorry I came onto you so quickly.”

  


Patrick wipes his tears, he’s sure that it wouldn’t be so bad if he was sober. If he decided that maybe drinking wasn’t the best choice, but of course he has to go and make bad choices on the day before the world ends. He had to fuck everything up. 

  


“We can leave and go back to the room and pretend everything is okay, if you want,” Pete suggests, “Or we can try this again and we can take it slower.”

  


Patrick swallows, “I want to… I wanna stay here for a second.”

  


“Okay,” Pete says, hugging Patrick closer, “I feel like this is the worst way to tell you that I’ve… I’ve wanted us to be more than friends for a long time, but I just… I don’t know. I didn’t want to say it for so long because I was afraid it would actually ruin our friendship. And I figured the best way to say it is when I can pretend I’m on drugs, so I could act like it was just that.”

  


Patrick chuckles at how weirdly thought out that plan was, and Pete just grins back, “Listen, I want to do whatever you want. You’ve been a best friend for years and I know that this definitely isn’t an ideal way to find out. But I do care about you, and I’ve wanted to be more but…”

  


Patrick smiles softly, wiping the last of his tears, “I feel like I’m a little more sober.”

  


“Sex does that,” Pete replies, “How about we go into the other room and relax for a little, yeah?”

  


Patrick shakes his head, “No, I want to… I want to actually /make love/ I just don’t think the bathroom is an ideal place. If you want to.”

  


“That’s fair,” Pete smiles, “Get your pants on, let’s see if we can’t find a place to fuck that… isn’t a bathroom.”

  


Patrick chuckles softly and follows Pete out of the bathroom after Pete pulls on his shirt and he tugs up his pants. They make their way through the house and eventually, get upstairs where Patrick finds an empty bedroom (luckily). Pete shuts the door behind himself and locks it before pulling off his shirt and kissing Patrick, softly this time.

  


“I love you,” He says, “A lot.”

  


“I…” Patrick swallows, then finally replies, “I love you, too.” He doesn’t know if it’s true or not, but he doesn’t care. 

  


Those words send him back into the bed, Pete cupping his jaw and kissing him harder, more passionate, more emotional. Patrick inhales deep hugging Pete closer and for a moment, he feels like they’re not close enough, even with their bodies pressed tight against each other. 

  


“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Pete says, “I should have said something, we could have more time than just 24 hours to do what we want to, that was really stupid of me.”

  


“It’s okay,” Patrick promises, then kisses Pete’s neck and repeats, “It’s okay.”

  


Pete fingers at the bottom of Patrick’s shirt and pulls it off, up over his head and onto the floor where soon after, his own shirt joins it. They’re both kissing, and Patrick begins to relax much more, and he inhales deep as Pete kisses down his neck, softer now, “I’ve wanted this for so long, it’s… it’s been more for years and I just didn’t… I was scared.”

  


“I know,” Patrick replies, then lies, “Me, too.”

  


Pete undresses Patrick again, pressing his jeans to the floor and letting him step out before doing the same for himself. Patrick keeps Pete busy kissing him, pressing lips to his neck, to his chest, back to his lips, and then turning and pressing him into the bed this time to undress him.

  


Once Pete’s own pants are off, Patrick kisses him, softer this time, and they stay like that, on the bed, both naked. Patrick is panting slightly while Pete mumbles softly, “Please?” Patrick nods and grabs another condom from Pete’s pants as well as the small bottle of lubricant. 

  


“Thank you,” Patrick whispers, “For letting it be this way, I just. I wanted it to be… softer?” He isn’t sure how he wanted it, but he knows for sure this feels better.

  


“Of course, it’s an honor to be your first,” Pete grins. Patrick chuckles as he slides the condom on and kisses him again.

  


“I love you,” Patrick says for what must be the hundredth time today.

  


“I love you, too,” Pete whispers. Patrick finally lines up, slicked, and presses in. Pete groans, shutting his eyes as he continues, slowly and gently. Patrick bottoms out again, and kisses Pete, pressing his head into his neck a moment later.

  


“You can go,” Pete encourages, “This feels… great.”

  


Patrick smiles and pulls out before pressing back in, gently, then starting up at a consistent pace. Pete shuts his eyes, pulls Patrick closer and they nuzzle into each other as Patrick continues. He swears he’s not close enough to Pete, that nothing could be enough for it, but it feels amazing, anyways. This isn’t fucking, it’s making love, and it’s something Patrick’s missed out on for years. 

  


He hates that it has to end.

  


***

  


They wake up the next morning at nine. There’s a solid knock on the door, but when Patrick and Pete are both still way too tired to answer, there’s a solid minute of the door making weird sounds, and then opening. Patrick looks up to see Gerard there, “Hey, sluts, time to get up. Party’s over, the world ends in 13 hours.” Pete groans beside Patrick, rolling over in bed and pressing a pillow over his head. Patrick rises and shakes him slightly, though, “Up, we should get out of town before it gets too dangerous.”

  


Pete replies, “But what if I don’t want to?” To which Patrick replies, “I’ll leave without you.”

  


Pete takes a deep breath, yawning before turning over and looking to Patrick, “My ass hurts too much.”

  


“That sounds like your problem, not mine,” Patrick replies, “Let’s get out of here. You can sleep on the car ride there.”

  


Pete moans but agrees, sitting up, “Can you hand me my clothes?”

  


“Sure.”

  


They leave the room and head out the door before Gerard and Frank can stop them to try to talk. Both of them want to just leave and not come back. They have 13 hours, and the meteor is starting to become bigger than the moon. Patrick shudders and looks to Pete who is looking at the snow on the ground with a grin.

  


“It’s Christmas,” Pete grins, looking at Patrick, “I got a present for you, but I left it at home. I don’t really want to go back.”

  


“Neither do I,” Patrick replies. He told himself he wouldn’t. “We should get out of the city.”

  


Pete nods, glancing at the city in the distance, “Let’s head West. I’ve never been to Montana before.”

  


“We’re not going all the way to Montana, but we can get out of the populated areas.” Patrick chuckles, “Let’s go to Iowa, it’s only a four-hour-ish drive and we can find somewhere secluded. We’ll stop by a store for food or something, too.”

  


“We should get presents for each other,” Pete says, “For Christmas.”

  


“Yeah, sure,” Patrick chuckles, “We can do that, too.”

  


***

Patrick and Pete begin their drive out of Chicago, avoiding the quickly growing crowd of people in the streets. Fights are breaking out, gunshots are going off, and it’s getting dangerous fast. The roads are backed up and it takes an entire hour to get out of Chicago itself, but when they’re out, they’re out. Everyone seems to be heading further North or South. The roads are clear on the drive out. Patrick checked his phone and found 7 voicemails from his mom, thirty texts from both his parents, and 17 missed calls. He ignores them all. They go through fields and trees, hills and mountains, and they continue for hours, talking about music, love, friends, and most importantly, the afterlife. 

  


“I don’t think we go to heaven or anything like that,” Patrick says, “I think… we just die and that’s it. It’s just black and there’s nothing. We just cease to exist.”

  


Pete grins slightly, it’s empty, “But that just seems so bland. You could at least try to believe we go to heaven and God is up there and we get to live super dope afterlives.”

  


“It just doesn’t seem realistic,” Patrick replies.

  


“Doesn’t have to be. It’ll at least get you a little less depressed for when you die.” Pete says, “And besides, it won’t happen if you don’t at least try to believe it.”

  


Patrick scrunches his nose, looking out the window, “How much longer until Ohio? Where are we even going to in Ohio?”

  


“We’re going to Iowa, Patrick,” Pete chuckles, “I know they sound the same, they’re not.”

  


“Shut up,” Patrick mumbles, cheeks slightly flushed.

  


“We’re going to Elkader, the mayor had everyone sign an agreement that if they wanted to riot, they’d leave town. The place is so small that it could actually be enforced. And I've heard they’re all just generally good people. We can stop by Walmart on the way because there’s one about 33 minutes out.” Pete says, changing lanes.

  


“Imagine having to drive 33 minutes just to get to a Walmart,” Patrick mumbles. They both laugh slightly, “Well, how far until Walmart?”

  


“We’re actually…” Pete points out the store on the right, “Here.”

  


Patrick raises his eyebrows, then looks at the clock. It’s already 2:30pm, eight hours until the meteor clashes with Earth. Pete is starting at the clock, too, they exchange glances and Patrick knows they’re thinking about the exact same thing.

  


Pete pulls into the parking lot, there are only three other cars, the place looks abandoned like it caught fire or something, but when Pete gets out and grabs a baseball bat from his back seat, Patrick worries a little less.

  


“Better to be safe than sorry,” Pete promises, then winks, “Let’s go.”

  


They leave the car, Pete locks it, and they head into the store. The lights are off, but sunlight streams in the window so as they enter and pass the cashiers, it’s well lit. Nobody is around. Patrick grabs a knife off the floor and then looks to Pete, “I’m gonna go Christmas shopping for you.”

  


Pete rolls his eyes, “Don’t peek at my present.”

  


“Don’t peek at mine,” Patrick grins, “Let’s meet back here in ten?

  


“Sounds good,” Pete replies. He immediately continues off through the store, heading left, Patrick notices. To the gardening department. Patrick chuckles and instead heads to the back of the store where he knows the CDs and electronics are. Most of the aisles are trashed, goods are strewn across the floor and thrown everywhere. Patrick continues back, grabbing a storage container and a roll of wrapping paper on the way. He wants this to be perfect.

  


He continues and finds himself faced with broken TVs and stolen laptops and phones. But that’s not what he’s looking for. He turns and looks through the aisles until he finds the CD rack where he immediately grabs every CD he knows Pete likes. Queen (which is, objectively, more of Patrick’s thing), Metallica, Slayer, Rancid. Patrick manages to find Otis Redding, one of the albums that has “Sitting on the Dock of the Bay.” Patrick remembers vividly, Pete told him one drunk night that it was his favorite song as a kid. It’s the first song he remembers listening to.

  


Once he finds all the Pete Wentz-type albums, he looks to the aisles again and, to his luck, actually manages to find a polaroid camera on the floor, still in its box right next to at least a stack of film. This has got to be the luckiest he’s ever been. Patrick looks back through the aisles, browsing and finding tape. No scissors, though. He uses his knife for that.

  


He’s about to start wrapping it up when he hears a woman’s voice behind him, “Patrick?”

  


It sounds eerily familiar, like something he hasn’t heard in years, and as he turns, he sees in front of him someone who also looks eerily familiar, but he can’t place his finger on who she is. Dark hair, long sweater, and black skinny jeans. When he sees the signature red lips, though, he immediately remembers.

  


“Lindsey?” Patrick steps back slightly. She’s quick to step forward, brandishing a knife in one hand, an ice cold expression on her face. 

  


He doesn’t have time to react, helping out as she comes quick with the weapon. He tries to dodge away, sudden realization crossing him. This isn’t just some childhood friend meetup, it’s the end of the world. The /apocalypse/ as some would say. He’s an idiot.

  


“Wait, I won’t-“ He tries to convince her not to do anything harsh, but Lindsey rushes forward, forcing the knife into his gut before pulling out anyway. Patrick falls back collapsing on the floor, gripping at his gut, “Shit!”

  


“Do you have food?” She asks.

  


“No,” Patrick cries, “I swear, you can look, I don’t, I haven’t eaten all day.”

  


Lindsey hums, skeptical and disappointed. She peers into the box and pulls out the polaroid camera and film before shoving it in her bag along with Patrick’s knife, “You’re fucking lucky I used to like you. Otherwise, that would have gone into your heart.”

  


Patrick is in too much pain to reply, panicking, “Why the hell would you stab me? Fuck! Can you help me out of here? Something?”

  


Lindsey gives him a gaze that conveys something about him being inferior, then walks away, “Figure that shit out yourself. Maybe you’ll die before the meteor hits us. Consider yourself lucky.”

  


She is gone before he can ask again, but he’s panicking too much to ask her again even if he could. He assesses the situation. He knows he needs… Pressure on the wound, and he needs to stop the bleeding. Shit, Pete would be better at this. Patrick can barely concentrate on fixing himself because it hurts so bad and every few seconds of pulling off his shirt is him grimacing and holding back tears. This is way worse than he expected. Why did he think Lindsey would just greet him as an old friend? Is he really that stupid? /Fuck/. Also, why the hell would she just decide to stab him that quickly? Without assessing anything about Patrick or the situation.

  


He barely manages to get his shirt off, but he gets there, he immediately wads it up and presses it to the wound. He needs to get out of here. He needs to see Pete. Patrick forces himself to his feet despite him wanting nothing more than to stay on the floor and stare at the wall and maybe get rid of the pain, but he forces himself up. He knows Pete isn’t going to find him, and yelling could possibly alert others who are lurking around. He considers grabbing the box, but he knows that he couldn’t. So instead, he settles for kicking it across the floor as he makes his way back down the aisle. He doesn’t have anything to protect himself, and he’s especially wary of anyone around him as he continues back, holding onto everything he passes to stop himself from falling. 

  


Thankfully, he doesn’t find anyone, and it has to take a good five minutes just to get back to the entrance. The moment he sees Pete he shouts out, “Pete, help!”

  


Pete looks up from the ground, and immediately as soon as he sees Patrick, he sprints the distance, startled, “Shit, what happened? Is that blood?”

  


“We need first aid, and get back to the car.” Patrick coughs, “Let’s go.”

  


He wraps one arm around Pete’s shoulder, and Pete grabs his box, placing something inside before helping Patrick back out to the car, leaving through the sliding doors, “What happened? How are you feeling?”

  


“It’s not,” Patrick coughs, hard, then continues, “I’ll live, but it needs attention soon. Some lady I knew came out of nowhere and stabbed me. I haven’t seen her in years, guess she really needed a second knife.”

  


Pete doesn’t laugh, Patrick doesn’t blame him. “I have a kit in the trunk, give me a second.”

  


Patrick sits down in the car seat, legs out the side of the car. He pulls his shirt off for a moment, and looks at the wound, it’s bleeding bad, but as Pete comes back and wipes it off with Patrick’s shirt, he realizes the wound itself is deep but small. Maybe Lindsey just wanted to inebriate him more than anything. 

  


“Lay back,” Pete says, Patrick immediately complies. It’s cold as shit out and he feels a little better with the car seat at his back. He almost forgot it was winter.

  


“I don’t know much about… nursing, but for now I’m going to clean it and bandage it.” Pete states, grabbing a bottle of rubbing alcohol and pouring it on a washcloth, “I need to clean it, but hopefully should be a hospital in town or something. Are you gonna last for 30 minutes?”

  


“I should,” Patrick coughs and watches Pete begin to press the cloth to the wound. Patrick cries out, kicking involuntarily, “Fuck!”

  


“I know, relax,” Pete says, wiping it off a few more times. Patrick relaxes as soon as the washcloth disappears and is instead replaces with a soft fabric, and wrapped in ace. Patrick groans as Pete pulls away, “Let’s get into town.”

  


Patrick nods.

  


***

  


They get into town in 20 minutes, Pete was speeding the entire way because Patrick was grimacing so much (which just made him whine more) but they get into town at 2:49pm, seven hours until the end of the world. As soon as they arrive, they stop at the nearest hospital, a small clinic. Nobody is there except for one person smoking a cigarette and staring at the computer at the front. Patrick’s bleeding is barely there anymore, but it’s still concerning.

  


“Hello? Are you a nurse here?” Pete asks. Their eyes meet Pete, and then Patrick, who is bent over, catching his breath, eyes shut. “He was stabbed, we need help.”

  


“The world is ending in, what, seven hours? Are you two fucking stupid?” They chuckle, “Find somewhere else. Or don’t bother at all.”

  


“I want to last until at least the end of the world, are you really going to decline care?” Patrick asks, glancing up with drowsy stress and fear filling his eyes, “Please, it doesn’t have to be a long-term fix, just something quick… We’ll be in and out... I... pr-.”

  


Patrick coughs, and that’s when he falls, passed out. Pete gasps, “Shit, shit, shit, please? Please, we just want to live until ten together, /please/.”

  


The person at the counter stands, and comes over before assessing the situation. Pete is full of adrenaline and anxiety, he just really needs to make sure Patrick is okay. The nurse finally begins tugging at his arm, Pete immediately grabs the other, “Fine, but you’re helping me out. This better be quick.”

  


They pull Patrick into the back room and set him down on the table. The nurse cuts off the bandage and winces at the sight of the wound, “Have you cleaned this?”

  


“No, we just… We used rubbing alcohol.” Pete replies.

  


The person mumbles something explicative, then replies, “If this is only supposed to last seven hours, then we can just stitch it. He’s suffering from blood loss, he’ll be dizzy but he’ll live. The stitches will at least close the wound, and then we can bandage it and you two can get out of here.”

  


Pete nods, “What do I do?”

  


“Find the bandages, and stay out of the way.”

  


***

  


It takes about ten minutes to stitch Patrick up, and bandage him, and another twenty for him to wake up. The nurse was nice enough to attach an IV with water in his arm until he woke up, even though they never got him a proper bed, and he’s just laying on a metal table, but it works. He stirs at 3:24, groaning out and trying to sit up, but Pete immediately kisses his forehead and presses him back down, “Hey, sweetheart. How did you sleep?”

  


“I dunno,” Patrick replies, “I’m surprised I woke up. What happened?”

  


“Blood loss from the wound,” Pete replies, “We gave you a seven-hour fix.”

  


Patrick smiles softly and looks down at the stitches in his stomach, “Did she stab anything crucial?”

  


“Nothing that’ll kill you before 10,” Pete replies, “At least that’s what Sawyer said.”

  


“Sawyer?”

  


“The nurse.”

  


“Right.”

  


“I got food,” Pete says, holding up a small basket of fries and a burger, “It’s all I could find that was cheap.”

  


Patrick smiles softly, “Thanks. Are we supposed to go?”

  


“Yes.” Says an unfamiliar voice. Patrick looks over to the door that’s now shutting, Sawyer in the room with them, “You two should leave. I fixed up your boyfriend. That was the deal.”

  


“Thank you, Sawyer,” Pete smiles, helping Patrick off the table and handing him a shirt.

  


The nurse nods and leaves the room for the front office again. Patrick and Pete exchange confused glances. Pete shrugs. Then offers a hand for balance, Patrick doesn’t take it.

  


“Can you walk okay?” Pete asks.

  


“Yeah,” Patrick replies, “A little dizzy, but it’s okay.”

  


When Patrick manages to cross the room without too much trouble, Pete picks up the food again and follows Patrick out the door. They don’t talk to Sawyer, they seemed as though talking wasn’t great, but they reach the car and sit down for a moment. Patrick looks out the window up at the sky. The meteor is much bigger than the moon, it’s menacing, light gray and dark blue. The atmosphere gives it a hazy tint. Patrick shudders, and looks to Pete, “How big did they say it was?”

  


“27 miles long.” Pete replies, shoving a fry in Patrick’s face, “Eat up.”

  


Patrick nods, satisfied when he finally eats the fry and then lets out a loud moan, “Oh fuck.”

  


“There you go,” Pete chuckles. As soon as Patrick finishes, he kisses him hard, cupping his jaw and Patrick inhales softly. He missed Pete’s lips. He hasn’t felt them since the party. He takes a mental note to kiss Pete more often than he does. They only have six hours left, he wants to cherish them as well as they can.

  


“As soon as we finish eating, I say we find a place out of the town to spend the final few hours,” Pete says, “We’ll fuck in the wild outdoors and get absolutely wasted.”

  


Patrick chuckles, voice thick with sarcasm, “Sounds great, Pete. Best plan ever.”

  


They finish the meal, and then Pete starts up the car and they head further West. The town is there, and then it isn’t. It’s a small place, a tiny population. Patrick wonders if they were all like Sawyer or if maybe Sawyer was just Sawyer. He presses on the cut for a moment but realizes it’s been numbed down. He smiles slightly.

  


They make their way through the highway, past fields of grass and lakes, watching the landscape pass them by. It’s pretty, and the sun is lowering over the horizon. It’s about twenty minutes out of town when they off-road to climb a hill, tall and steep. And that’s when they see it.

  


Spread out in front of them are miles and miles of rolling hills, dark green with a dark blue sky. Nobody is around, it’s dead empty, and it’s perfect. Pete actually stops the car at the top of the overview and looks to Patrick. Patrick looks back and smiles, repeating his thoughts, “It’s perfect.”

  


They reach the bottom of the hill, and take a left, quickly just off-roading through the hills. The car takes it well despite the fact it’s older, and they drive out for a few miles, just to ensure privacy. They reach the top of a narrow hill, and the entire horizon spreads out around them. They see the main road in the distance, but other than that, nothing but green hills, blue skies, and the sun falling in the distance.

  


Sure enough, it is already late 4 o’clock as Pete turns off the car and grabs a blanket from the backseat, “I didn’t know if we were actually going to use a blanket or anything, but I figured the plan would be to leave or hang out somewhere not in Chicago.”

  


“That’s fair,” Patrick replies smiling, “It’s pretty here.”

  


Pete nods. The sunset is casting pinks and yellows over the horizon, the sun a golden orb in the sky and casting shadows of the hills behind them. Patrick inhales the cool winter air and gazes up at the clouds passing above them. He’s surprised it’s not snowing, but he’s happy it isn’t. He left his coat at Gerard’s, he would freeze to death. He already is.

  


Pete takes a seat in front of the car and Patrick immediately sits beside him, leaning into his shoulder, cuddling up into the blanket. “I llove you.” He didn’t expect those words to leave his mouth. He didn’t think they were true up until now. But he realizes they are. This is where he’s meant to be. 

  


“I love you, too,” Pete replies, brushing his fingers against Patrick’s wound, “This is exactly how I wanted to go.”

  


“This is pretty fucking good,” Patrick laughs softly, “Are we exchanging gifts?”

  


“Oh shit, I totally forgot,” Pete exclaims, “Hold on, wait here.”

  


Patrick grins, watching as he pulls Patrick’s box from the backseat and brings it out, “I guess you didn’t have time to wrap it, but it’s okay. Also, why the /hell/ wouldn’t you just leave the present behind when you’d gotten fucking /stabbed/?”

  


Patrick blushes slightly, “I was proud of what I got. And I didn’t want anyone taking your gift.”

  


Pete chuckles, “You’re funny.”

  


“Nah,” Patrick replies, “I am thoughtful, though.”

  


Pete shuts the car door and sets the box down between them, “Who is going first?”

  


“Seeing as you’ve already seen mine because I didn’t even wrap it,” Patrick starts, “You’re going first.”

  


Pete rolls his eyes and pulls out Patrick’s present. Surprisingly enough, he put in the effort to wrap it. Patrick is charmed. Pete pulls out the first CD, Metallica. Patrick doesn’t know any of their music but Pete grins and looks at Patrick, “I think I already have these.”

  


Patrick’s smile disappears, “Wait, what?”

  


“I love these albums, I have them in my car,” Pete chuckles, “I appreciate the thought a lot but… yeah.”

  


Patrick groans and falls back into the grass, “I’m an idiot, it just seemed like a good idea because I knew you liked them. I didn’t even think that… you like them… so you’d probably have them.”

  


Pete chuckles as he pulls out the rest of the CDs, “Yeah, I have… all of these.”

  


Patrick sits back up as he pulls out the second to last CD, but then he stops and pulls out the last one. Otis Redding.

  


“I don’t… I don’t have this one, though.” Pete blinks, “How did you know I liked this? This has the first song I ever remember listening to.”

  


“I know,” Patrick replies, “You told me years ago. I got it just for that song. Sitting On the Dock By the Bay.”

  


Pete smiles softly, melancholy and nostalgic, and looks to Patrick. “Thank you.”

  


Patrick smiles slightly, “I feel bad that I didn’t think that you’d have… you know… all of your favorite albums. But glad I could give you at least one.”

  


Pete smiles, “Open yours!”

  


Patrick is anxious to open his, he barely even realized it, and he looks to the box wrapped in dark red paper, candy cane designs in white decorating it. He peels back where the tape shuts the gift, ripping open to reveal a box. Once the wrapping paper is off, gingerly placed on the ground, he opens the cardboard box and reveals a small succulent. Patrick remembers Pete going to the gardening department, he wasn’t sure what he got. Now he knows.

  


“He’s gonna be our little friend through the end of the world,” Pete smiles, “You can name him whatever you want to.”

  


Patrick chuckles and turns the plant. On the side, he sees the name spelled in thick, bold letters: /Echeveria Elegans/. It’s a light mint color and has lots of rounded, soft rosettes. Next to the scientific name, there’s another. White Mexican rose. Patrick grins, “I don’t know what to name him.”

  


“We can name him Mikey for old time’s sake.” Pete replies, “You know I love my exes.”

  


Patrick chuckles, “I’ll name him… Frosty.” 

  


“Frosty?”

  


“Yeah, cause it looks like it’s frosted over. And also it’s Christmas Day, so… Winter.” Patrick says, “Frosty, and me, and Pete.”

  


Pete gently turns Patrick’s head and their lips meet, Patrick shuts his eyes, kissing back immediately. As soon as Pete bites gently on his lip, he knows where this is going, and he stands, grabbing Pete’s CD and Frosty and entering the car. He sets Frosty on the dashboard and puts the CD into the player before placing the case over Frosty. The plant is obviously too innocent to see this. 

  


When Patrick turns, Pete’s shirt is off and he’s pulling him into the backseat. They don’t even bother shutting the doors as Pete pulls Patrick to lay down.

  


“/Sitting in the morning sun

I’ll be sitting when the evening come

Watching the ships roll in

Then I watch them roll away again.../”

  


***

  


Pete is sitting on top of Patrick his head nuzzled into Patrick’s neck, sweat coursing down both their backs and the blanket covering them both. The doors are shut now, the song is long gone now, the whole album is over, really, but neither of them really care, either. Patrick is half asleep, Pete is gazing at the clock on the dashboard, the car is in idle. Life feels great.

  


It’s eight now, they’ve spent the past three hours fucking and talking and smoking and listening to music, then making out, and repeating the cycle. Both of them are happy, warm. It feels like a cozy Christmas evening, and everything is nice. 

  


“I didn’t… I didn’t realize you’ve loved me all this time,” Pete whispers. Patrick stirs and mumbles back in a groggy voice.

  


“Neither did I.” Patrick says, “I think… I think I’ve been repressing these feelings for a really, really long time.”

  


For a moment there, they go quiet and they’re both just two stupid teens in love, sick on it. High on it. Patrick realizes this is them making up for years of neglect, not wanting to lose their friendship, but still wanting something. Patrick leans up and kisses Pete, gentle and soft. Pete kisses back and sits up, opening the sunroof. Patrick smiles softly, but it fades when he sees the meteor. It’s harder to see, but it’s menacing and he panics slightly. It’s huge, they’ve barely seen it for the past for hours but it seems to have doubled in size. Large and cratered, lit by the sun, gone in the distance. It’s a dim light, but it’s clear in the darker night.

  


“I’m scared,” Patrick says. It’s involuntary, it makes his heart seize up and he grips Pete closer, nuzzling into his neck, “I… I don’t want to die. I want to live in this moment forever, I don’t wanna go.”

  


“You won’t,” Pete whispers, “You won’t, I got you. I got you, I promise.”

  


Patrick clenches his teeth, he doesn’t want to cry in front of Pete like this, he doesn’t want to break down like he has been for the past two weeks. This has been such a great day, he doesn’t want it to end.

  


“It’s okay to cry,” Is what Pete says next. Patrick doesn’t know if it’s a coincidence or if Pete can genuinely read his mind, but the moment those words leave Pete’s lips, Patrick breaks. He doesn’t speak, he just sobs, unsure of what to say, but he knows he feels afraid. He feels fucking terrified. He’s supposed to get a degree and a job, he’s supposed to go to school and retire and have a family. It’s supposed to be more than this, he was supposed to have a chance at life. Patrick was supposed to make it. They were both supposed to make it. 

  


He says this out loud to Pete, he cries it in a babble of nonsense and then keeps cries, “I wanted a family and a house. I wanted a spouse and kids and I wanted… I want things to be different, they’re supposed to be different.”

  


“You do have a family, Patrick,” Pete whispers, “I can be your replacement husband.”

  


Pete pulls away and Patrick smiles slightly. Pete reaches and grabs Frosty, “Frosty can be our replacement son.”

  


Patrick laughs outright at that, grinning up at Pete, “Sounds great.”

  


Pete wipes away Patrick’s tears and returns to his place, huddled on Patrick, listening to his heartbeat, “It’s gonna be okay, Patrick. I promise.”

  


Patrick inhales through a stuffy nose and gazes up at the second moon in the sky, “Do you have a cigarette?”

  


Pete sits up again and reaches down to the front of the seats to grab the pack and lighter from his back. He places the last one between Patrick’s lips and lights the end. Patrick inhales deep and as soon as he stops, Pete steals it and takes his own drag.

  


They sit like that for a long while, Patrick watching the meteor get closer, discussing the afterlife, asking the question of life, and wondering aloud to each other. Eight passes into nine, nine passes into nine-thirty, and soon enough, 9:46 comes. The exact time of the meteor is supposed to be 9:50-9:55. They’re still like that, Pete on top of Patrick, drifting in and out of sleep. When 9:47 arrives, Pete suggests they wait outside, and he turns the album on again, loud on the car so they can hear it outside. Patrick is holding Frosty, gazing up at the sky while they lie there on their backs, the blanket over the both of them. Patrick cuddles closer into Pete, Pete kisses his forehead.

  


“Three minutes,” Pete states. Patrick isn’t sure what to say, he’s afraid. Anxiety and depression ache in his bones and turns his heart into a racetrack. He gets a stabbing feeling in his chest every time he thinks too hard on it, and eventually, he finds tears leaving his eyes again.

  


It’s hot, and he realizes the meteor, that is currently taking over the entirety of the sky, is reaching the atmosphere, and burning up as it comes. He shuts his eyes and instead of watching, he listens in on the song playing. He hears a loud buzzing sound, but he tunes it out and listens to the song playing on the radio, and he holds Frosty and Pete close.

  


“/I’m sitting on the dock of the bay

Watching the tide roll away

I’m sitting on the dock of the bay, wasting time.../”

  


“I love you,” Pete whispers, and Patrick realizes he’s crying, watching his own mortality fall to pieces in front of him. Patrick sobs out, clutching Pete closer.

  


“/I left my home in Georgia

Headed for the Frisco Bay

I’ve had nothing to live for

And look like nothing’s gonna come my way.../”

  


“I love you, too.”

  


“/So, I’m just gonna sit on the dock of the bay

Watching the tide roll away

I’m sitting on the dock of the bay, wasting time…”

  


“Look like nothing’s gonna change.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to kudos and comment! It means a lot!


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